Mercenary's Star

by William H. Keith

  The smoke was heavier in the street beyond, where several vague shapes moved against a background of gray fog. Blue-white bolts of lightning flickered and probed out of the murk, shattering craters in the masonry above and behind the defenders, showering them with a powdery avalanche of crumbled stone. McCall had planted his beloved Bannockburn just behind themain barricade, and the Rifleman's quad weapons swung back and forth in tiny arcs across the opening. A shadow moved, and the ‘Mech's autocannons barked, spent casings trailing streamers of smoke as they spun away from the furiously cycling guns.

  As the Wolverine was crouched in an enfilading position across the Courtyard on the east side, in a position where it could catch the enemy in a crossfire as he came through the gate. Khaled had Grayson's Shadow Hawk high up on the roof of a two-story building along the western side of the court.

  The Marauder emerged from the deep shadows of the ramp to the lower level, Grayson had Lori call Ramage on her combat transceiver.

  "He says they rushed the gate about a minute ago, but pulled back when McCall opened up. He thinks they're still testing us."

  Grayson raised the visor on his neurohelmet and wiped at the sweat pooling above his eyebrows. "That won't last long. They'll be along any..."

  His words were chopped off by the shrieking hiss of incoming rockets, arcing on white contrails over the Courtyard walls and erupting in volcanic fury amid rubble piles, buildings, and crouching men. The barrage ended as suddenly as it began, enfolding the courtyard in an unnatural silence.

  Grayson guided the Marauder into the light and close alongside a three-story building. "End of the ride, Lori," he said.

  Seeing argument in her eyes, a protest forming on her lips, he shook his head. "Quickly! I can't close the canopy on this thing, which is going to make this open cockpit a target! Now get off, if you don't want me to throw you off!"

  Conflicting emotions struggled in Lori's face. "You need someone on the radio."

  "Not anymore."

  "What's the point, then?" Her face was flushed, her eyes bright. "We're trapped in here! Do you think I'm going to leave you now?"

  Grayson hesitated, surprised. Then he smiled. "Look at it this way, Lori. Here I am, all set to eject if I get in trouble. But I can't very well punch out with you squeezed in next to the chair thrusters now, can I?"

  Again, Lori's face revealed her inner struggle at this strange piece of logic. At last, she only nodded, then bent forward to kiss him, a deep, hungry but brief joining. "I love you," she said.

  He held her for a moment, searching her eyes. He saw the love there, and his own spirit soared. Grayson nodded, squeezing her shoulders tightly. "I love you, too, Lori. Now git. And mind the hot metal."

  She climbed out of the cockpit onto the open hatch panel that extended from the hull like a stubby wing. From there, it was a short leap across and down to the roof of the building. Their eyes met as she looked back at him from the rooftop, and then she was on her feet and sprinting toward the safety of an open doorway.

  The next flight of missiles volleyed into the Courtyard an instant later, their detonation filling the enclosed space with light, thunder, and hurtling clots of debris. Close behind the missiles, a pair of vast and threatening shapes pressed up against the open Courtyard gate. Grayson recognized the squat, massive silhouettes against the battle fog. They were Archers rushing forward in a close assault role.

  The Kurita command must be anxious to finish this, he thought. They could stand off and shell us into submission if they had the patience. What's their hurry?

  He checked his weapons. Both PPCs were at full charge. His hands closed over the firing controls, and computer-generated characters on his console screens spoke of power levels, target locks, and combat-ready status. The PPCs fired together, twin beams arrowing into the first Archer as it strode through the swirling dust. The impact staggered the heavy ‘Mech, caught it off balance, and sent it lurching into one of the warped Courtyard gates.

  Grayson hit the recharge and triggered his lasers. White-hot, minor suns flared into radiance close together, high up on the stricken Archer's torso, close by the cockpit. The Rifleman fired lasers and autocannons together at the same instant, and gouts of flame marked the detonation of autocannon shells in partly molten slabs of armor.

  The second Archer crowded past the first, LRMs rocketing on flat trajectories into the black wall of the central University tower behind the Rifleman. Chunks of shattered ferrocrete and stone rained onto the barricades in a steaming, smoking avalanche that sent the commandos there scattering for deeper cover. The Courtyard had become a blazing hell where unprotected humans could not hope to survive for more than a few seconds.

  The Wolverine opened up from its corner alongside the gateway wall, autocannon fire hosing across the second Archer. The Shadow Hawk joined in from its position on the rooftop opposite. Three streams of high-explosive mayhem converged on the 70-ton BattleMech, transfixing it in fire and the stuttering flash of explosions.

  The Marauder's autocannon was empty, but Grayson could still join in the litany of destruction with his lasers. A green light winked readiness on the charge for his PPCs. He fired them again, the searing bolts closely spaced. Fragments of white hot metal erupted from the Archer's flat snout as the ‘Mech's cockpit took a direct hit. In an agonizing parody of slow motion, the strickenArcher twisted slowly, then toppled. It slammed into the ground with the shattering impact of a crashing aircraft, trailing an arc of black smoke from its smashed-in cockpit screen. Flames licked from the wreckage.

  The first Archer remained on its feet, crouched back by the open gate, missiles rocketing into the Courtyard buildings. The machine was too close to its target to take effective aim with its LRMs, but it could and did shower thundering chaos through the smoking ruin of the court. Lasers burned white, their paths dazzling against the particles of dust and smoke that choked the air. Khaled nailed the damaged Archer with a spray of autocannon fire that sent the heavy 'Mech staggering back out the gate in retreat.

  More shapes surged into the gateway and stopped, hesitating behind the obstacle of the fallen, second Archer. A Griffin was in the lead, closely followed by a Wasp and a Stinger. The Griffin's PPC stabbed flaring lightning against the barricade. The Rifleman staggered back a step, struck full in the chest by the blow.

  Clay fired a spread of SRMs at the Griffin, three of the missiles striking the Kurita ‘Mech in the arm. The Griffin spun and returned the fire, PPC bolts slapping into the Wolverine's armor. Grayson crouched low in the exposed seat of his Marauder and urged the captured ‘Mech forward. The Griffin's PPCs were threatening to take out all four of the defending ‘Mechs.

  The Griffin turned at Grayson's approach and hesitated. With a surge of triumph, Grayson realized that the Griffin's commander must be confused. The enemy ‘Mech's unit markings read Company A, 3rd Strike Regiment...the same unit as the captured Marauder. The Kurita MechWarrior would be looking through the smoke and confusion of the firefight and be seeing his own regimental commander's BattleMech. And that stayed the Draco pilot's hand for the critical second Grayson needed.

  Twin PPC bolts lanced out from the heavy forearms of the advancing Marauder, striking close together in the heavy armor of the Griffin’s chest. Exposed circuitry sparked and flashed behind the pump and gush of green coolant fluid. Twin laser beams arrowed through the ruin, flashing plastic and tender wiring into superheated steam. The Griffin tried to turn, but actuators failed and power failed The deep-set, spherical head split open like a blossoming flower. For an instant, the enemy MechWarrior was visible, hunched forward in his control seat. Then ejection thrusters fired and the seat rocketed into the sky, leaving the Griffin frozen in place, a dead hulk.

  Grayson swung the Marauder for a shot at the next advancing ‘Mech and held his fire. A black-clad figure was dropping away from the Stinger's foot as it swung up to scramble across the fallen Archer. The satchel charge behind its knee exploded in a fine spray of jagged fr
agments and coolant mist. The leg came down, the savaged knee buckled, and the Stinger collapsed across the wreckage of the Archer.

  The Wasp standing in the gateway swung an arm up and around, as though pointing out the scattering figures of the commandos. Machine gun fire flickered and yammered, chopping miniature geysers of dust in zigzags across the ground. Another black-clad figure rose from the debris nearby, rose and held its ground in the face of the hail of machine gun fire as it took aim with the weapon at its shoulder. The weapon thumped, and liquid fire sleeted across the Wasp's torso. The ‘Mech stood transfixed, a pillar of raging fire. Grayson found himself willing the pilot to eject, but it didn't happen. The inferno's white heat must have overloaded the emergency power to the eject circuits.

  The blazing Wasp and the tangle of wrecked ‘Mechs blocked the gateway completely. Grayson took advantage of the sudden lull to check his instruments. Except for the obvious problem of the open canopy, his ‘Mech was undamaged so far. The heat build-up from his use of the PPCs was extreme, but not critical. He'd not been moving the heavy ‘Mech much, and that helped. He eased his machine back into the shade of the veranda lining the Court.

  He couldn't tell for sure without radio communications, but the other Gray Death ‘Mechs did not seem badly damaged. So far the Courtyard battle was all in their favor, with four enemy ‘Mechs destroyed or seriously damaged at the gateway, and at least two more out of action in the tunnel underground. Grayson knew, though, that there was no way their luck could last much longer.

  Shapes moved through the wreathing smoke in the gateway. Armored hands smashed the burning wreckage of the Wasp to the side, clearing the way for another BattleMech charge. An Archer loomed through the smoke, but Grayson couldn't tell if it were the damaged one returned or a new one. Autocannon fire and laser beams lanced across the Courtyard, clawing at the massive shadow. The Archer did not return the fire, but bent to the task of dragging the wreckage of the destroyed Archer to one side.

  Grayson opened up with his PPCs and lasers, but directed his fire to one side of the struggling monster. Craters gaped and cracked in the stone wall beside it The archway over the gate shivered and flexed. Blocks of stone showered onto the Kurita ‘Mech, but without apparent effect. The entire gateway began to crumble as the Shadow Hawk and Wolverine added their autocannon fire to the effort. The Rifleman kept its weapons trained on the Archer, burning chunks from its arm and side, flaying open raw patches of twisted armor.

  Smoke, dust, and falling rubble were so thick that Grayson could hardly see past the death-choked gateway. Another shadow appeared, looming squat and powerful as it shouldered past the Archer. With those long, heavy PPC cannon barrels that made up the ‘Mech's forearms, there was no mistaking that silhouette.

  A Warhammer!

  39

  Lori hurried through passageways heavy with writhing smoke, trembling to the thunderous blasts from outside. The corridor twisted back through the building, leading, she was sure, into the Administrative Complex, the cluster of buildings around the base of the University's Central Tower. The smoke grew thicker as she ran deeper into the complex. There were no other people here, save the occasional still and bloody forms of Kurita soldiers or Regis Blues caught by mobs of freed prisoners.

  She stopped, sagging against a wall, coughing hard. Which way? A moan and the sound of someone else coughing attracted her attention. She hurried forward and saw a woman on hands and knees, struggling through smoke so thick it burned the eyes and turned throat and lungs to fire. A nearby wooden door burst open, and flames exploded into the corridor just beyond the woman. Lori almost turned away, but the woman's struggles were growing weaker, more aimless. Lori was caught, frozen for an instant's struggle within her. Then she moved forward. She had to help.

  And she found that she could. The confrontation with the Kurita interrogator had broken through some barrier within her. She'd recognized that when her feelings for Grayson had welled up in her in a way that had not been possible until now. And that was the key.

  It seemed that she had feared, not the fire, but that sense of helplessness she'd first known the night her parents had died. Helplessness, not fire...and not Grayson himself, had been the barrier that made her a stranger to herself. Her helplessness had been acted out in all too vivid a fashion when Nagumo's interrogators had strapped her to that table, had kindled a torch and advanced on her, leering...But Grayson had come...and she had joined him in the fight. The barrier, like prison gates flung wide, was gone now.

  Breathing in shallow gasps, Lori rushed to the woman's side as flames roared close. She pulled one of the woman's arms across her own shoulders and half-carried, half-dragged the limp form, backing away from the fire. After awhile, the smoke grew so heavy that Lori dropped to hands and knees herself, pulled the woman across her back, and crawled in the direction that instinct told her was the way outside. The smoke was not so thick close to the ground.

  Instinct proved correct. A door led to a veranda where Lori could sprawl against a mound of rubble, gulping down air. The woman lying beside her recovered slowly. It was Sue Ellen Klein, apparently unhurt, but haggard and dazed. Her uniform was torn, and her arms and hands stained with blood.

  Beyond the rubble barrier, the clash of armored giants continued, their weapons like lightning and thunder and hell's own fury.

  * * * *

  Powerful, confident, undamaged thus far in the struggle, the Warhammer of the Command Lance, Company A, First Battalion, 3rd Strike Regiment, strode past the blocking wreckage and into the center of the Court. The Bannockburn fired round after burning round into the advancing monster's chest. Clay's Wolverine opened up from behind, pouring white fire into the Warhammer’s flank. The rest of the company's ‘Mechs crowded through behind it—another Archer, lasers flaring, a Phoenix Hawk, another Wasp.

  A deafening explosion smashed Grayson forward in his control seat, and blue fire scalded his bare left arm. He spun the Marauder and faced a new threat. Another Archer, the odd, forward-thrusting shape of a Jenner, and a pair of Stingers were crowding through the entrance to the lower level. A Wasp limped heavily, showing where an anti- ‘Mech commando had struck it with a satchel charge, but the tunnel’s defenders had not been able to withstand this new rush.

  He fired, PPC lightning flickering across the Archer and the Jenner. Machine gun fire rattled across the open cockpit panels, and Grayson backpedaled the Marauder out of the line of fire and into the Courtyard proper. The Warhammer targeted him at once. Twin PPC bolts splashed across the Marauder's legs, and Grayson screamed as his face burned in the light. He returned the fire, still screaming, saw his bolts striking home in coruscating flashes of fire and glittering fragments of metal.

  The Courtyard was filled now with BattleMechs struggling in the smoke. An Archer battled hand-to-hand with Clay's Wolverine. Grayson's captured Marauder and McCall's Rifleman stood back to back atop the burning ruin of the Courtyard barricade, as the enemy BattleMechs advanced from two directions. The Shadow Hawk joined them, firing bolt after point-blank bolt into the torn and broken armor of the advancing Warhammer's torso.

  A new roar crashed and rumbled from overhead, and something heavy smashed into Grayson's open cockpit. He looked up, startled. The Central Tower of the University was wreathed in fire, and smoke was billowing from open windows halfway up its height.

  More debris fell, splashing into the Courtyard. The fire, Grayson thought. The fire in the lower levels! It must have spread! There was enough wood in the framework, under all that stone, that the whole tower must be in flames by now. The place was burning down over our heads and we didn't even notice!

  The Kurita ‘Mechs closed in.

  * * * *

  Tollen Brasednewic had planned to lead the hundred-odd men of his original band to the Uppsala Mountains to continue the fight, but he never left the Fox Island camp. Instead, he listened to the growing thunder in the distance, a thunder barely audible above the keening of the jungle chirimsims.
The words he'd exchanged with Grayson Carlyle still burned...the humiliation still burned...But what was right?

  He'd painted his refusal to help as a matter of honor as well as practicality. The rebel army—those men and women beyond his original small band—would no longer follow him, not after that mercenary offworlder had publicly criticized him. Inside, though, Tollen wondered if he were more enraged by the fact that his relationship with Carlotta had become public. With that, Old Family and Immigrant alike would be reluctant to follow him now.

  Wouldn't they? And was it honor or pride...or his own unreasoning fears that kept him from finding out? The truth of the matter was that he didn't know if any in the Verthandian rebel army would follow if he gave the order to attack Regis.

  Somehow, his anger against Grayson Carlyle had become a smaller thing. As the sounds of battle rising from the capital became more urgent, he gathered his original band and gave orders to saddle up a company of hover transports and move out. They would travel south, toward Regis, not to the west.

  The main body of the rebel army had been waiting in some confusion ever since word of the Gray Death's commando raid had spread among them. Individual company commanders had been uncertain what to do. Even the Verthandian ‘Mech lance, led by Rolf Montido, had done no more than gather along the edge of the Bluesward at the crest of the Basin Rim. With neither orders nor clear leaders, they'd been helpless.

  When Brasednewic swept past them in the lead hover transport, Montido's Dervish relayed the signal. All units...follow! And the Free Verthandi Rangers had swept down on Regis.

  By the time they reached the outskirts of the city, the Gray Death ‘Mechs that had been arrayed outside the walls of the AgroMech factory had been driven back into the University Compound. Brasednewic had barked orders over the rebels' combat frequency. They couldn't afford to get pinned down in a firefight outside the University. Instead, the column split, each side swinging toward a different gate in the city wall. With luck, at least one column might be able to force its way through to join the fighting inside.